


Intruder

by DEVILATWORK



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Author is an idiot, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky has no left arm, But he doesn't have a prosthetic, Confused Bucky Barnes, Confused Steve Rogers, Confused everyone let's be real, Confusion, Fighting, Fugitive, Gay, Have fun lol, I'm desperate, Like really slow, M/M, Man I love Bucky, Missing, Missing Teenager, Mystery, Not MCU compliant, Please read, Possible smut, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, SO SORRY, Sad, Slow Burn, So Steve is BUFF but he doesn't have super strength, So is Bucky, So much angst, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve doesn't make an appearance for a WHILE, Steve is a bit of a dick, THIS IS NOT A HAPPY BOOK, Violence, and comment, dudes being dudes, not relationship centred, original character family, painfully slow, sorry - Freeform, super gay, tagged underage because steve and bucky are both 17, try and spot every variation of bucky's name i have hidden in this, very complex, very sorry, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-06-14 14:19:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15390609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DEVILATWORK/pseuds/DEVILATWORK
Summary: i breathed in hard and tried not to think. i looked at the boy in the picture, and i imagined how incredible it was to have a double like that, how incredible it was to have a stranger exactly like you. i looked at james barnes. he had a happy, flawless, and fearless face, and then it occurred to me. i could be him if i wanted to. it crept in. i could see it coming, and i tried so hard not to notice it.i could be him.---in which a fugitive boy takes on the identity of another missing teenager- james barnes.---hiatus.





	1. Chapter 1

i was in a hostel, a stop-off for impossible kids in central brooklyn somewhere. the shelter was a tired place run by tired people. it smelled of cigarettes, floor polish and soup. they gave me old clothes, washed thin and mended, and almost in the right size. they asked countless questions in return for two hot meals and a dry place to sleep for a few nights.

i tried to be grateful but i didn't speak to them, it was best just to keep a low profile

 

***

 

i decided that keeping a low profile was dumb, and soon i was locked in a storeroom for fighting. 

it was hot and airless, four pale walls, a shut and rusted filing cabinet, a shelf stuffed with papers, and a stack of broken chairs. the boy i fought with was hurt. that’s why i was locked up really, for winning. apparently, you're not allowed to do that. i can't remember his name or even what the fight was about.

i was in there for over two hours, i wanted to wreck every goddamn item in the room, i watched myself doing it, replaying it over and over in my head. 

i heard one of them coming. i saw the wavering, khaki-colored shape of her through the mottled glass on the door. i banged it hard with my right hand. she stopped and turned as she took a quick breath of her disappointed air.

her voice was small and jumpy "what do you want?"

"i want to be let out."

"i can’t do that." 

i put my forehead against the cold skin on the wall "please help me"

"are you hurt?" she asked, "are you bleeding?"

"i'm thirsty."

she didn't say anything.

"you can't deprive me of water."

"i'll go ask," she said, and through the glass, she warped and gathered. she was gone.  
by the time she came back, i had counted to four hundred and forty-eight. she also had someone with her. they unlocked the door and swooped in with a plastic cup half filled with water. i drank it down in one. it wasn't enough.

the man had a hooked nose and loose, curly hair. he spoke in a harsh yorkshire accent, letting out a sharp whistle every time he said a word with an 's'. i'd seen him before, but not her, she was carefully cradling her stomach - i think she was pregnant.

"have you finished fighting?" the man said, leaning against the filing cabinet.

i shrugged "probably not."

i didn't like the way the woman was looking at me. i tried staring back so she would stop but she didn't. between us there was just the blood in my ears, pounding and pumping, as well as the look on her face.

she kept her eyes on me as she spoke to the man, and as she moved to leave the room she finally spoke "hang on a minute, would you? i'll be right back.  
the man shifted back onto the cabinet, trying hard to look relaxed. he leaned towards me and his black eyes blinked, quick and vigilant, like a bird's. i wondered if he minded being alone with me, i wondered if he was afraid.

"why won't you tell us your name?" he said.

i pretended he wasn't there, i pretended he wasn't talking.

"i'm gordon" he held his hand out, awaiting a handshake. "and the lady's name is regina- but she prefers reggie"

"cool. good for you" i replied, keeping my arm by my side.

"and you are?" he lowered his hand, he sounded disappointed.

i looked down at my shoes- somebody else's shoes, black, lumpy and scuffed. i wondered how many nobodies had worn them before me. i felt the fabric of someone else's shirt against my skin, i looked down at someone else's worn trousers. how was i supposed to know?

i smiled "i'm nobody"

"oh come on" he chuckled. "everyone is somebody."

it was amazing really, how he could be so sure of that.


	2. Chapter 2

it was the 4th of july when i found out i wasn't who i thought i was. i can remember the exact moment- the moment when i didn't know myself anymore. alone, and covered in blood. i asked the man at the train station for the time so i could remember the exact moment. he looked at his watch and said it was half-past seven. then he just went back to his newspaper.

i said "do you know me? do you know who i am?" i hoped he wouldn't, i needed him so badly to say "no." i could tell he wasn't concentrating on his reading anymore. he just had his eyes on the words as he waited for me to go away. he was scared.

 

***

 

the regina woman came back with something in her hand, a piece of paper. "can i have a word?" she asked gordon, a look of desperation on her face. gordon nodded, and got up from the cabinet, leaving me in the room on my own again. i put my ear to the door, they were whispering, but i could still hear.

"i only saw the poster this morning" she said "pure coincidence"

"bloody hell"

"he's been gone nearly four years"

"well. i. never"

"do you think it's him?"

"look at it, it's gotta be"

the door handle moved. i shut my eyes and tried to get myself ready. i tried to stop time. when they came back in they were altered, careful, like i was a bomb that might go off. a sleeping tiger. a vase about to fall.

i thought they had actually found me. i wondered how far i could get if i started running.

reggie hovered her hand over mine without letting it touch, gordon had a forced smile on his face. i was terrified. was this it? 

"james?" she asked

i looked straight at her. i didn't know what was going on.

"james barnes?" she asked again, giving me a gentle nod.

my name is not james barnes. it has never been. my name is bucky- well it isn't, but that's what grandad used to call me anyway. i thought it was an good name, it suited me.

"who, me?" i said.

gordon handed me the piece of paper. it was a printout, a picture of a boy with the words missing above his forehead.

it was a picture of me.

"oh my god" i muttered, i took in a deep breath and tightened my grip on the paper.

the poster was old, the boy looked about 13. brown hair, with hair not long, but not short. he had my grey eyes, same shape, same lights and colors. my face exactly- my nose, my mouth, my chin.

i wondered why the boy in the photo was smiling, i didn't smile when i was thirteen, what was there to smile about?

"oh my god" i repeated.

the two must have misunderstood me. reggie let her hand touch mine and she squeezed. gordon let out the breath he was holding in, his cheeks puffing out. i kept my eyes on the picture.  
there was something wrong with it.

there are some things i know for sure about myself. things i see every time in the mirror, things i know so well i don't even have to look to know they're there. 

one, i have two scars on my face. the first runs from my earlobe to my cheekbone. thin, raised and shiny, similar to one of the badly sewn seams on my shirt. i got it when a dog bit me at the grand old age of five. it hurt like hell. the second is beneath my left eye, a red mark, a swelling under my fingers. a diamond-shaped hole made by a boy with rings on every finger. i remember his face, and i remember the sharp weighted sound of those rings landing. his name was brock.

two. i have three piercings in my left ear and two in my right. i did them myself with a needle, salt water, and a cork. i breathed in deep, and they didn't even hurt. there's nothing in them anymore. no studs, no rings or whatever. i took them out, but the holes are still there. they look like pincushions.

three. my teeth aren't the same as james’. the photo showed that he had wonky teeth, the front two facing in opposite directions, with his back teeth uneven and pointed- his were completely different to mine.

four. probably the most noticeable, the boy in the photo had both of his fucking arms. 

in the picture, i could see two arms, no scars on my face, no piercings, different teeth, and i looked happy and well fed.

in other words, it wasn't me.

i tried to tell them, "no." 

"stay calm, james," gordon said. he crossed his legs as he spoke, both his trousers and him making a squeaking sound.

i shook my head "no- it's not me."

"whatever trouble you're in james," reggie said, "whatever reason you had for running away, we can help you."

"no you can't," i tried swatting her away, she was too close, and i didn't like it.

"we're here to help."

"well help someone else, someone who wants it. i'm not him."

"well, who are you then?"

good question. i stared at her and smiled my angriest smile.

"what are the odds-" reggie turned to gordon, acting as if i wasn't there "-of there being two identical missing boys?"

"billions to one" gordon replied, and just like that, it was settled.

"i don't care what the odds are, it's not me!"

"so, what is your name then?"

maybe this is it, i thought. just a trick to get me to tell them my name. i wasn't falling for it. i had managed to hide for this long.

"it's not james, no way."

"have another look," reggie pressured, "take your time."

they didn't believe me. they wanted to be right. i could tell that they were going to insist on it. it doesn't matter what you say to people like that. when they make up their minds they stop listening.

i breathed in hard and tried not to think. i looked at the boy in the picture, and i imagined how incredible it was to have a double like that, how incredible it was to have a stranger exactly like you. i looked at james barnes’s. he had a happy, flawless, and fearless face, and then it occurred to me. i could be him if i wanted to. it crept in. i could see it coming, and i tried so hard not to notice it.

i could be him.

and if i were james barnes, the thought said, i wouldn't have to be me anymore- whoever that was.

you won't exist, it said. you could wipe yourself off the face of the earth in a second. you could vanish into thin air, right in front of your pursuers.

i gave that thought my full attention, what did i have to lose?

there were people looking for both me and james barnes, but the people who were looking for him cared. he had family and friends- he had loved ones. he had a life i could step right into.  
and what did i have?

nobody. nothing except the fear of being found. the people looking for me wanted to pull me apart.

i wanted to be someone else, doesn't everyone?

"ok," i said to myself, so quietly i almost didn't say it at all.

"what?" gordon said.

they both looked at each other and then back at me. it was like they'd been holding in. suddenly the only sound in the room was their breathing.

"ok," i said a bit louder.

"good." said reggie, "your name is james barnes?"

"yes," i told her "my name is james barnes." i watched her smile spread, and stick to her face.

i lied, that's all i did wrong. 

it didn't feel like much. everybody lies once in a while, and in this case, it counts in my defense because i wished it was the truth.

i really did.


	3. Chapter 3

reggie let me look myself up on the computer. she wasn't supposed to. using the office equipment was against the house rules. but then again so was running, or having a knife that was actually capable of cutting things.

"just for a minute- okay?" she said as she watched over my shoulder. i could smell her breath. i could hear her swallow.

i turned to look at her, "do you mind if i look through this alone?"

there was no way she was allowed to do that. i watched her blink three times.

"of course, james," she said, like she worked for me or something, like this was a hotel and i was paying her to be here. "i'll be just down the hall."

god, having a name was something. i would never have gotten that far if i was still a nobody to her.

james barnes had his own missing persons profile. he lived in the outskirts of brooklyn, in a small town where everybody knew each other. he went missing on the 4th of july, when there were hundreds of strangers about. the   
town was packed with people who had come to see the parade, listen to music, see the fireworks, and watch the wickerman burn. it happened every year in that town. it was a clever time to disappear.

the 4th of july. i looked at the date on the screen for a long time. james barnes hadn't been seen since that night, and nor had i.

the profile said he was wearing skinny jeans, and a black sweatshirt. his face was painted silver, red and blue for the parade, and over his ordinary clothes he wore an american flag cape. there were multiple photos, it was strange to see a photo of him hours, or even minutes, before he was gone. it was even stranger to see my own eyes looking out from behind the photo.

his disappearance was "completely out of character", which means they didn't see it coming. he didn't leave a note, and he didn't tell anyone where he was going. his family said they would never give up hope of seeing him again.  
a small message was printed at the bottom of the screen, probably written by his mother. "james, we miss you and think about you every day. there is no problem that we can't solve together. just let us know you're okay, and please come home."

i would have liked a message like that. it would have meant a lot to me, people never giving up hope.

there were other photos of him too, not just the fireworks ones. i sat in the empty office, and looked at them all. james with an ice cream. james in a basketball club. james with a panting dog. james on a windswept beach. james hugging an older girl with both arms. i glanced down at the empty space on my left, and sighed. that would take some explaining.

i turned back to the computer, it was like looking at myself with a life i couldn't dream up. a life i wish i had. i knew i hadn't been there. i knew it wasn't true, but i willed myself to start hearing the drums in that parade. smell the sweat and rubber of the basketball court. taste the sweetness of the strawberry ice cream. feel the salt and sand on my skin, gripping onto the unknown girl, feeling the soft fabric of her dress with both my left and right hands. i willed myself to start believing that those pictures were pictures of me.

since being on the streets, i found out quickly that if you haven't eaten in a few days, you have to be very careful to take little bites, or the food you've been craving, and dreaming of can make it all feel so much worse than just sick. that's how i felt about wishing for a family, wishing for a home. i knew it was a terrible idea.

but wishing is addictive.

james barnes's life slipped into my head just then, and it planned to stay there for a while. i couldn't make it go away. not a goddamn chance. i thought about his mom and dad, what they might look like, about how their faces would change when they saw me. i thought about his brothers and sisters. how many there might be, how old they were. i thought about the cosy old town, and the gap i would have left by leaving. i thought about his friends, and how happy they would be when he came back. i thought about his relationships- what if he had a girlfriend? would i have to be with a girl i never knew? what about my arm? i couldn’t turn up with one limb missing without a concrete explanation.

i tried to kid myself that they needed me as much as i needed them. i tried to kid myself that i could end all their suffering just by showing up, by showing my face.

i thought of what kind of house james lived in. i thought about his room, and how it would feel when it would be mine. i thought about breakfast at the kitchen table. bad jokes, pancakes, orange juice, and the smiles on our faces.

i thought about school. was james doing well? was he a great basketball player like the photos suggest? was he popular? could i go back and have the friends and company that i've missed out on over the years? could i be normal?

i wished for what james barnes had. i wished for it with every single fucking breath.

i didn't think about the knife-like edge i would be forced to live on pretending to be him. i didn't see it, i refused to look down.

i stared at his face on the computer screen and i dared myself to try it, give it a go. either i could make my wish come true, or i had to go right now and tell reggie and gordon the truth. i could become him or be me. that was my choice.

i picture it too often. me, walking down the corridor towards them, pretending to choose. i replay the scene in my head because these were the few precious minutes i had before there was no going back. the last few minutes i was no one. not quite me, but not yet james barnes.

my shoes squeak on the polished floor. my hands feel hot, swollen, and clammy, and i know i'm undecided. i don't know what i'm going to do.

undecided seems like a magical place to me right now, it's a place before action and consequence.

undecided is what i wish for.


	4. Chapter 4

i knocked on the door. gordon and reggie were making phone calls. they’d been talking to the police, the missing persons association, and social services. they were both running off coffee and triumph, scrambling around the cramped office trying to get everything organised. a lie had already snowballed into a fact as my back was turned.

“james, my man,” gordon said as he wheeled his office chair away from the desk. “how are you doing?”

it was embarrassing, him talking like that. i knew it, and he knew it. i stared at him, and he looked away.

“it’s jamie,” i said, “that’s what people call me.”

i didn’t know i was going to say it, but when it came out it sounded right. i liked the feeling of him in my voice. i was tall, and looked down on gordon in his chair. i had friends, family, and somewhere to be. i was a somebody. the fugitive i had been had finally disappeared. 

nobody could get me now.

“sorry,” he said, clearing his throat, “jamie. what can we do for you?”

i told him i had finished on the computer.

“good lad,” he straightened himself up in his chair, “find what you were looking for?”

i shrugged, “i guess,” (i’d found everything i’ve ever wanted), “what happens next?”

reggie said they were arranging for my family to be informed, “someone will let them know as soon as possible. then we can sort out getting you home.”

home.

i didn’t know what to look at. this kind of hunger burst open in my gut, this cool empty space. i licked my lips, and felt a sudden fine sheen of sweat rise in my hair, and under my arm.

“don’t worry, it won’t take long,” gordon assured me with a smile. i felt sick with guilt and fear, what if they realise i’m not him? surely a family member could tell the difference between their own blood, and a stranger?

“so...you excited to go home?” reggie asked, lamely attempting to pass the time.

home? was it that easy to call it my home? i nodded, not making eye contact.

“you do want to go home, don’t you james? it is what you want, isn’t it?”

“yes. i want it more than anything in the world.”

i thought she might start laughing. the whole world could have burst out laughing right then, and i wouldn’t have been surprised. who was i to want anything?

“good, good. of course you do,” she gave an awkward nod, i was surprised that she hadn’t gotten a concussion from all this nodding.

gordon sat back in his chair with his hands behind his head, trying his best to sneakily glance at my missing left arm. i turned away from his view, and because the conversation seemed to be over, i left the room, mumbling about getting a drink. i put one foot in front of the other, and when i got out i leaned against the wall, and closed my eyes, making my heart slow down just by asking it to.

now, i was him.

and with each step i took as james barnes, with each new slowing heartbeat, i replaced something i wanted to forget about having been me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry this is late!! DEVILATWORK is on vacation, and they don't have wifi. This is their beta reader, all_things_fandom_and_stuff, and I am a terrible friend, and forgot to update for them!! Anyway, here is the new chapter!!!
> 
> (p.s. I know everything is lowercase, but there is no fixing it XD)

my grandad’s house was huge, and it backed into the local park. i don’t remember anything before that. i’ve tried, but my earliest memory is looking through the window. i could see the playground, and kids moving all over it like ants on a dropped lollipop,

being in that house was like going back in time. it was quiet, and dark. the brightly colored walls, lined with books, had turned brown over the years. the place was full of ticking clocks, counting the days away in every room. the curtains were closed, as if the outside didn’t matter. grandad thought that the best way a person could spend their day was reading alone in a dark room. i don’t think it crossed his mind that it wasn’t what everybody wanted to do.

after the accident, people kept saying it was no place for a child. the health visitors, and social workers (or nosey-effing-parkers, as grandad used to call them) said they were “appalled” by the conditions.

they didn’t ask me. it didn’t matter what i thought.

there were thirteen rooms in that house. i counted them myself. grandad only lived in one.

i thought he must have used them once. must have needed them for something. maybe a wife, or kids, or at least pets. maybe a tenant, or whatever he had before me. he never talked about it, even when i asked him. he acted as if there was nothing to remember before him and me. he called it ‘the time before’, and that’s all he would say about it.

grandad was happiest when he was just sat around. he would read, sleep, and drink in the front room, the one with the big bay window you could never see out of. sometimes he would get up, and shuffle to the bathroom or the kitchen, or to pick up the mail from the doorstep. sometimes he ventured to the corner shop and back again, whiskey bottles clinking in the bag, his wiry whiskers glinting, and hair gone wild.

my bed was in the front room by the fire, next to his chair, and the countless books, and empty bottles. it was so warm in there, unlike the rest of the house, which was so cold that your face felt it first. the second you went out there, the tips of your fingers and nose would die just a little. those were my places: the garden overrun with weeds, the other twelve rooms, and the attic upstairs. all lifeless like a museum, or a film set. a perfect timepiece, fallen into quiet and vacuous ruin.

in the stifling warmth of the front room, i’d run my hands over the wallpaper that felt like flattened rope. the pattern of the curtains looked like the designs you see on bus seats, plain with colored speckles. i couldn’t imagine grandad choosing those curtains. i often wondered who did.

that was the room we both slept in. at night, i would make a nest of cushions at the end of the bed. he would sit in his sagging leather chair and read to me. his bottle of whiskey would be on the table by his side, as not to stop halfway through his reading. he read me h.g. wells, and john wyndham. he read me c. s. lewis, charles dickens, tolkien, and huckleberry finn. every night he would read until i was asleep on my cushions, or he would fall asleep in his chair. that’s how we would say goodnight, disappearing in the middle of a sentence.

that’s how i learned everything i know, with the clocks’ soft ticking, the haunting click of the gas fire, the feeling of velvet against my cheek, the smell of whiskey, and the sound of grandad’s papers rustling.

how could that not be the perfect place for a child?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to @all_things_fandom_and_stuff for uploading the last 3 chapters while I was away! (Go check out her account, her writing is amazing!) 
> 
> \---
> 
> Finally getting a small look into James' home life this chapter, enjoy!

the next day i got a phone call.

reggie came running down the hall to find me (probably not best for someone who’s eight months pregnant). i was sat there picking holes in my second-hand jeans, waiting, trying to take time apart, minute by minute, second by second. for some reason it didn't seem to be working.

reggie was out of breath by the time she reached me. her upper lip was glistening with sweat. i was trying as hard as i could not to focus on it.

“james,” she panted, “it’s for you, it’s your sister.”

i walked behind her, back the way she had come. when we got to the office, i looked at the receiver for a moment before picking up the phone.

“hello?”

“jamie?!”

james barnes had a sister.

“jamie? it’s charlotte,”

“hello, charlotte,”

she made a high pitched noise, you couldn’t really classify it as a word. “is that really you?”

“yes,” i breathed, “it's me.”

i closed my eyes, and sat in silence as i listened to this charlotte girl i’ve never met, crying because i was alive. i’d imagined people jumping around, besides themselves with joy and relief, not sobbing miles away at the other end of a phone. i didn’t think it would be like this. 

after five minutes of hysterical crying, charlotte started talking again, and when she talked i pretended as if it was me she was talking to. i pretended that she’d been there for me this entire time, and that she was so happy to see me, and not jamie. for some reason that didn’t make me feel as bad.

“i’m coming to get you. jamie, promise me you won’t disappear again. promise me you’ll stay right there.”

i nodded before realising she couldn’t see me. “i promise.”

“oh god. mom’s not here. i can’t get ahold of her, so i’ll just come down. i’ll be there soon, don’t move!”

“i won’t move. i’ll stay right here.”

she took a long time to say goodbye. i finally put down the phone, and forced myself to look at reggie.

“well?” she asked, “how was it?”

i didn't know why she was asking. she'd heard all she needed to, hanging around the photocopier, pretending to be busy, holding herself still so she could listen.

“good,” i said.

“you didn’t say much.”

“i never do.”

i went back to my room after that, and sat on the edge of the bed. the dinner bell sounded not long after, the basketball match on the tv started, and the showers were free, but i just sat there. charlotte had told me not to move, and i did just that.

i should have run away. i should have got out of it while i still could. but i didn’t go anywhere. because i suddenly had a sister, and she told me not to.

i guess that meant i trusted her.

***  
it had been three hours. i heard charlotte before i saw her. i could hear her shoes clapping softly on the ground next to gordon and reggie’s squeaking shoes.

when they came in, she stopped, and put her hands over her mouth. she stood there with reggie beaming behind her.

i didn’t know what to do with my face.

i could feel a big flashing sign above my head that said “this is not him!” i waited for her to notice it. i waited for her to say “you’re not my brother,” and i thought about what would happen next. would sirens start wailing? would she hit me? what would they do with me once they knew? i felt like i would melt into a wax puddle on the floor.

but what if she did think i was james? if she fitted me into his place like a wrong piece in a puzzle. what would happen then? that was what i was scared of the most, yet i wanted it more than anything, too.

i stood there, and waited for her to decide.

she kept her hands in front of her mouth. her makeup bled from her eyes, and onto her skin. i thought about her putting it on this morning, before she knew she was going to see who she thought was her missing brother.

“say something, james,” whispered reggie.

she said it like i was an idiot, like i was four years old. i wanted to hit her.

“hello, charlotte,” i said. my voice didn’t sound like mine.

charlotte took a deep breath, and she got gordon and reggie to leave us on our own. she didn’t speak, she just asked them with her eyes and hands. they said yes by turning their backs on us, and leaving the room, closing the door softly behind them. 

and so i was alone with her. it was at that moment i knew that anything i did, just one tiny thing, a word, a look, a gesture, could blow this open. she could scream the house down that i wasn’t him. i couldn’t breathe. i couldn’t move. i stayed dead still, and i watched her.

she wasn’t what i had been expecting. she was slightly taller than me. she had long, brick-red hair, and hazel eyes which overflowed with tears and delight. a smile so full of hope that it made me feel so grateful to have even seen it.

“t-talk to me- please.” 

i had to clear my throat. my voice was shrunken, hiding. “what about?”

she shrugged, and her eyes ran. she didn’t say anything, not for a bit. she just looked at me and the relief on her face made me flinch a little. it was like looking at the sun. “i can’t believe it. i can’t take this in.” 

i breathed out, and just watched her. i didn’t know what else to do.

“it’s really you?” she asked, coming over to sit on the bed with me.

i nodded. my tongue felt dry, and swollen in my mouth. i needed a drink.

“say something,” she begged, “why aren’t you saying anything?”

because i’m scared to. because i’m not who you think i am. because i’ll probably say the wrong thing.

“it’s good to see you,” i muttered, keeping my eyes down at the floor.

“good? good? four goddamn years, jamie, there must be something to say other than good?”

“sorry”

“i drove so fast.” she said, “i kept thinking i was going to crash, turn the car over, but i couldn’t slow down.”

“where have you been, jamie? why didn’t you call? and your arm, jesus christ jamie, your arm. what the hell happened to you?”

my lips were stuck together, like somebody had sewn my mouth shut.

“you’ve changed so much.”

i felt the dusting of stubble over my chin. i rubbed my fingers across my cheeks, and through my overgrown, almost shoulder-length hair. i ran my tongue over my teeth. i wondered how long it would take her to notice.

“you have too,” i said. could i say that? was that wrong?

“you’re so tall now,”

“am i?”

“why did you leave?” she suddenly said, and the skin of her voice broke, the anguish welling up underneath. “why would you do that?”

“i’m sorry.”

“i thought you were dead. stev- people said you were dead, james.”

“i’m not dead.”

she nodded again, and then her face caved in, all teary and helpless. she couldn’t catch her breath. she started to look at me again, like she wanted to make it all better. i didn’t know what to do except for wait for her to stop. she didn’t. instead she leaned her head on my right shoulder and cried. she cried all over my shirt.

while she did it i shut my eyes, and breathed slowly.

i had a sister, she was perfect, she cared, and she was there.

i think that’s the closest to happy i’ve ever been, and i knew i was going to pay for it.

i know it still. if there is a hell, that’s where i’m going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and Comments make me unbelievably happy! <3


	7. Chapter 7

now and again, i persuaded grandad that we needed to go out- to the city center maybe, or the market, or along the river. he never saw the point. i think after all these years of hiding in the dust-yellow insides of his books, real life was like tying lead weights to his feet and jumping into cold water. just not something he felt like doing. at all. he never minded me going out on my own, though. he said it was a good idea, even.

he said, “the lazy children of today have no knowledge of danger, and no sense of direction.”

or “when i was your age, i was out for days with only a compass and a piece of string.”

every time i asked to go out, he said he very much doubted that i’d get lost or stolen, or fall down a manhole.

he was right, i didn’t.

still, sometimes i persuaded him to get dressed and come with me, just because i liked him being there. just because he needed the fresh air. his skin was ash grey, and thin like bible paper. his hair was matted and wispy. i told him if he didn’t get out into the sunshine, he would turn into one of his mildewed books, and the slightest gust of wind would blow him into nothing. i think i told him that so much i began to believe it myself.

out on my own, i was quick and agile. running on walls, and weaving through crowds. ducking under bridges, and jumping over gates. grandad wasn’t the same. he found it hard to even walk. he would stagger along, often forgetting where he was going.

once he fell into the river. he didn’t exactly fall in- he was too close to the edge and he walked right into it, like it was what he’d meant to do all along. at the time he was wearing a big sheepskin coat, which absorbed so much water he couldn’t get up again. the water wasn’t deep, and it certainly wasn’t dangerous, but he acted like he was inches from death. he stood there with filthy water up to his chest, soaking into his coat, the color changing from sand to black, a look of sheer horror written across his face, which was replaced with a smile in seconds.

“come on in!” he grinned at me, chuckling, “the water is lovely.”

“no thanks, grandad.”

he winked at me, “this reminds me,” he said as he tried to heave himself onto the side, “of my childhood holidays on the coast of france.”

i think the coat weighed more than he did. he took it off in the end and waded out in a soaked suit. his coat floated there in the water. it was sort of eery, like a man who was floating face down in the water, waiting to be rescued. in the end, we lifted it out with a stick.

“i never liked this coat,” grandad said on the walk home. we were carrying the coat between us, with one arm on each shoulder, like we were carrying a real person. his teeth were chattering, and there was water running off him like a wet tent. his leather shoes were ruined, and his hair was full of dirt, leaves and rat shit.

we laughed and laughed.

i didn’t know grandad was drunk then. it never occurred to me. drunk grandad wasn’t any worse than sober grandad. not when you love a person that much. not when they’re all you’ve got. all you know.

i only saw grandad cry once, it was the 4th of july, but he wasn’t drunk. it was after the accident, the last time i saw him.

he was so pale. he looked so lifeless that i thought he might just disappear.

he tried talking to me, he tried to tell me something, but tears kept getting in the way of his voice. i should have held him like i held charlotte, but i just couldn't.

i should have. but i didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments make me unbelievably happy!


	8. Chapter 8

i was soon free to leave. charlotte signed a few papers to say she was responsible for me. she also showed gordon her driver's license to prove she was over 18, and that she was who she said she was- james’s sister. my sister. sort of. 

she came with me to get my things. i had already packed everything into my rucksack, and was waiting for her on my bed.

there wasn’t much. a flashlight without batteries, a knife and fork i had stolen from a local cafe, a tennis ball from the failed attempt of befriending a stray dog, a pencil, a blue feather keyring, an empty wallet, some jeans, tops, and an old sweatshirt i had found on a railing.

i found my rucksack in a dumpster years ago. there was a slash down one side, and one of the straps was broken. all i had to do was tape it up, and tie a knot, and it was as good as new. it’s amazing what you can find. perfectly good things get thrown away all the time. perfectly good things, and perfectly good people.

“is that yours?” charlotte asked. 

i nodded. 

“what have you got?”

“not much.”

she reached out, and took it before i could stop her. i watched her unzip it. all i could think was there might be something with my name on, or something to give me away. there wasn’t. my stuff looked like it had washed up there. it looked like stuff the sea had spat out.

“i don’t recognize any of this.”

i shrugged, “i guess not.”

she picked up the tiny blue keyring, “can i have it?”

i nodded again, trying my best not to let her hear my voice.

“it’s funny.”

“what is?”

“that you’ve been missing for four years, and this little thing has been with you the whole time.”

* * * 

we walked outside to her car, an old silver peugeot with a dent in its bumper and one almost flat tire. there were a bunch of plastic flowers hanging from her rear-view mirror, and a load of old newspapers on the back shelf that raised up and snapped shut when we opened the trunk.

i wondered how james got into a car, and if the way i did it would give me away.

gordon and reggie, as well as a few of the kids, stood in the front yard waiting for us to go so they could get on with whatever they did. nobody knew what to say.

“well- good luck james,” gordon had his head halfway through the open car window. i thought about shutting it or just getting charlotte to drive away.

“thank you, so, so much,” charlotte said. i hoped she wouldn’t start crying again, “i don’t know how to thank you.” 

reggie piped up, “let me know how things go, jamie,” but she didn’t mean it, and she knew i wouldn’t.

“ok,” charlotte said, and looked around her feet, “let’s go.”

she backed out of the driveway and turned onto a new road. the house, along with everyone i’d ever known, slipping away into the distance, disappearing as if it had never even existed. i thought for a second that maybe i would have been safer there. maybe i’d have been better off. for a second, i wish charlotte would take me back, and leave me. now, rather than later. now, before i hurt anyone.

the car seemed messy and crowded. a fallen over basket had spilled its stuff on the floor, and a big blue bag took up most of the room by my feet. there were clothes and bottles all over the backseat. the dashboard was covered in flyers for upcoming concerts, and tickets for events that happened three years ago. the whole car stank of incense.

after a while i could feel myself sitting firmly on something, cautiously reaching under, and pulling it out. it was a piece of old fabric, a knitted blanket, just a scarf. grey, dusty, and covered with holes. i guessed she used it for cleaning the windows, if the windows had ever been cleaned. i was about to drop it into the trash below, but the eager face of charlotte’s face made my actions freeze. instead, i cradled it in my hand, admiring how it made my grimy fingernails look clean in comparison. i had a weird feeling of nostalgia, which made everything even more confusing, and absurd because this wasn’t mine, it was james’. i started to play around with it a bit more, letting my fingers find their way around the swirls, and loops of the fabric.

and she watched me.

it was at this moment when i realized how hard this was going to be. did i have to be this vigilant? how long could i last when even a piece of fucking fabric was actually something special?

charlotte straightened up, and took a deep breath in her chair. “i thought you might have missed it.” she smiled “i know you’re probably too old for it and everything. i just thought it would make you smile.”

i smiled and thanked her, as if on cue. my smile made my face feel like it was splitting open. i put the rag in my backpack. i didn’t want anything more of jamie’s childhood to come up until i’ve learned at least something about him.

***

the car ride was awkward, but it was good being in a place without rusting lockers, filing cabinets, and screaming children. i watched charlotte’s hands as she drove. she had a gold ring on the little finger of her right hand, and a silver one on her left. her black nail varnish was chipped around the edges and the skin around them stained. her finger was lightly tapping to the beat of the current song. i didn’t recognize it, but i wondered if jamie would.

it was hot in the car. hot and dry. the air blew through the heaters, leeching the moisture from my eyes and mouth.

“i’ll go slow on the way back,” charlotte spoke up, ”i’m not going to almost crash, and flip the car over this time.”

“ok,” i muttered, and inside, i heard a part of me wishing that she would.

for the second time, we both fell into silence. the quiet in the car was full of us not knowing what to say.

so i thought. i thought about where we were going, and what it would be like. who would be there to meet me, and how the hell was i going to get away with it. i thought about how it made my body feel like it was opening up. how it made me feel hollow like i was forgetting something vital, knowing what i was doing was wrong yet still keeping it up. regret. regret. regr-

“we’re very quiet,” charlotte piped up again, “for siblings with four years worth of stories to tell.”

i liked it being quiet. it gave me no room to make mistakes.

“well, there’s no rush, is there?” i said.

“i suppose not. i guess we never really talked that much before anyway.”

she suddenly changed the gear, but she didn’t put it in the right place, and the car grated and squealed until she got it.

“i missed you, jamie.”

what the fuck was i meant to say back? i looked at my feet bashfully. she is still missing jamie. she’ll probably never stop, she just doesn’t know it.

“i dreamt about you, too.”

again, what should i say? and what would james say? thank you? sorry?

“in my head you were the same as when you left. i expected you to be the same,” she almost smiled. “it’s been four years. it’s stupid.”

we drove past a cafe called the oaktree. it looked warm inside. cosy, yet noisy. i thought myself out of the car, and into the cafe, looking at the backs of people’s heads, imagining myself in the windows.

“i wonder if mom and seb got my messages?” she said, breaking my daydream. “i called, and called, but i couldn’t get through.”

i didn’t know who these people were. i didn’t have the slightest idea what to say.

“they might not even know yet. how weird is that?”

i could see her searching my eyes for something that wasn’t there. i blinked, and so did she.

“god, jamie, i can’t believe it’s you.”

i knew exactly what she meant, even if she didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and Comments make me unbelievably happy! <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments make me unbelievably happy <3

close your eyes, think of the perfect house, right at the end of a lane that loops, and drifts through woodland, and the sound of a hundred birds tweeting softly in the background. a house that was surrounded by a white picket fence, covered with thick, twisted branches of bustling ivy. one next to a garden laden with white roses, alive with birdsong, and the sound of a running stream. the smell of grass, and vanilla floating through the air, and the taste of buttercups, and cinnamon on the tip of your tongue as you breathe it all in.

i am not making this up, i didn’t close my eyes, and dream about it. i didn’t read it. i couldn’t think of a place as perfect as this one. this place exists, and it’s where charlotte took me.

home.

i had pretended to fall asleep in the seat next to her, so i wouldn’t have to worry about what to say. i let my eyes give in, and close, and i stayed at the small center of myself. listening. listening to the slight tick of the indicator, and the sound of charlotte breathing, waiting, almost. i listened to her take out her phone, and dial a number, volume on low so she wouldn’t wake me. i listened when she made the call, the dial ringing once before being picked up. a woman’s voice, high, worried and strained. 

“is it him?”

“it’s him,” charlotte replied, and i knew she was looking at me as she said it. i could feel her gaze as she muttered the words, hazy, and shaking with disbelief, on the verge of tears, “it’s our jamie.”

“oh my god,” cried the woman, “i don’t- i can’t- really?”

“he’s right next to me.”

“how is he? what is he like? is he ok?”

“asleep, tall, he’s- god mom, he’s missing an arm.”

silence. i figured she paused to take everything in.

“should- can i talk to him?”

charlotte gently nudged my chest with her elbow. i shifted in my seat, and stretched, letting out a pretend yawn. she nudged me again, slightly harder this time, and i opened my eyes, smiling as i saw the house come into view again. she held the phone out to me, nodding her head. in return, i shrank from it, she held it out even further, and put it in my right hand. 

“it’s mom,” she whispered

“hello?” i said.

shattered breathing rattled out of charlotte’s phone, shallow and ragged, struggling for oxygen. she didn’t say anything.

“hello?”

“who is that?” she said, “is that you?”

i panicked, she had heard the lie in my voice, any mother would. she would know straight away. i spoke away from the mouthpiece so i was harder to hear. “yes. it’s me.”

then weeping, just like charlotte did. pure emotion erupting from one end of the phone, and an empty feeling coming from mine. i gave charlotte a small smile, and handed back the phone, wishing i was still pretending to sleep.

“mom,” she sobbed “he’s coming home. it’s over, he’s safe.”

nothing. more sobbing. i thought i heard her say, “are you sure?”

“oka-ok- yes. well i have to start driving again, we’ll be back in about in about 10 minutes, bye- yes i brought his blanket with m- okay- okay bye, mom, love you.”

what does she mean start driving again? weren’t we already here? 

“you okay, jamie?”

“yeah, i’m fine.” 

i wanted to find out where we were going if it wasn’t here. i wanted to know how long it would take, and if it was as beautiful as this house.

“what are you thinking about?”

i hate that question. if you’re thinking about it, then it’s private. if you wanted the other person to hear, then you’d say it out loud.

“home,” i replied.

she looked out to the cottage, and sighed, brushing her loose strands of hair behind her ear, and smiling stiffly, “i have to tell you something.”

“what?”

“you’re not going to like it.”

“ok.”

she looked across at me. she spoke too fast, like the sentence was all one word, “please don’t be mad. please don’t mind. we moved. seb bought us a new house. i took you here because i thought you missed it.”

it took me a few seconds to process the large jumble of words. ok. sure i loved the house, but i didn’t mind. i never lived in it in the first place. i was almost thankful. perhaps this deep into the countryside would be too quiet for me.

but then i remembered that i’m not me, i’m james, and charlotte was making out that james would not have such a calm response. she was holding herself away from me, waiting for a reaction. i couldn’t tell if it was me that was making her nervous, or her brother; the person she doesn’t know, or the one she knew too well.

james was missing. wouldn’t the family have to wait for him? what would it be like for him, arriving to a house he didn’t recognise, and surrounded by strangers? james barnes would definitely mind.

“that’s harsh,” i didn’t know where i plucked those words from, but they felt right. i felt like james would have done the same.

“i’m sorry, i’m so, so sorry, but the old house was in trouble with the pipes, and there are the neighborhood kids coming up with the whole rumour about it being haunted since your disappearance. then all of a sudden seb comes up with this house deal, and what else could we do?” she mumbled, her eyes tumbling downwards to her shaky hands, desperately avoiding my gaze. i felt bad then, sinking into myself a little more. jamie wouldn’t have given up so easily. 

i huffed, and didn’t reply, as bothered as i could be without looking like a huge asshole.

“it was for the best, for her- i mean.”

“right.”

“it was her dream house, the one we used to walk past when we walked the dog? the blue one? we didn’t even plan it. seb surprised us with the sold sign.”

“that was nice of him,” i mumbled quietly, eyes focused down because i almost couldn’t bear to look her in the eyes.

who the hell was seb? a rich uncle? a boyfriend? their dad?

“yes,” charlotte smiled, “it was.”

she put her hand on mine, and started the car, backing out of the driveway, and onto the road. we drove like that for a little while, me looking at her hand, and her looking at the road.

“i thought you would be angry.”

“do you want me to be?”

“no,” she replied “god, no. i just thought you would be, that’s all. you have every right to be.”

that made me smile, the idea that i was entitled to something.

“it’s done,” i said, “what’s the point of being angry?”

i pulled my hand away from hers, and shifted onto my side, looking into the outer mirror. looking at my own face. i was wondering what the hell had happened to get me here. soon i closed my eyes. i didn’t want to see my face anymore, i fell asleep for real.

***

it was the sudden stop of the engine that woke me. the lack of any sounds other than the slam of the car door, and charlotte’s keys jingling in her pocket. i slowly opened my eyes, and adjusted myself to the sun’s light, even though it was starting to get dark. it was unreal, like walking from one dream into another. i’d never seen so much space before. the wind blew the long grass in front of me. i could hear it singing as it blew above and below the car. for a second i wondered if charlotte had left me there. i wondered if she had figured it out and abandoned me. then i heard the creak of a gate, and she was back, opening the large metal gate separating the dirt track, and garden. she quickly opened and closed the door, not letting in any cold air, but instead the smell of cold grass, and soil.

“welcome home, jamie.”


	10. Chapter 10

“welcome home, jamie.”

i sighed in relief, home. 

charlotte’s car stumbled through the open gate, the wheels slicing through the thick mud, and old tire marks. charlotte quickly jumped out of the car for a second time, closing the gate behind us. the green plain narrowed into a twisting path lined with trees, whistling quietly as the wind blew through them. and there it was, james’ mother’s dream house. there was a light on downstairs, and it spilled warm, and yellow light into the dark around it. 

charlotte beeped the horn twice, and the front door flung open, the porch light snapped on, and it was then i saw james’ mother. 

she was quite short (i wondered how tall james was when she last saw him), and she was wearing a kitchen apron with the words “kitchen bitchin’” printed on the front. her hair was short on the sides with a naturally curled fringe. however, her’s was not brown like mine, but a shocking blue. i liked it, it suited her. her hands flew to her mouth just as charlotte’s had. i think she screamed, but i couldn’t hear through the glass windows, and the car engine. she waved for a second, and then shot off towards the car, towards me. i let out a little jump in my seat, worried about what was to come.

“jamie?” charlotte said, “is everything okay? you look like you’re going to be sick.”

“i-it’s fine, i’m good.”

“you’re scared. what are you scared of?” 

i didn’t have time to answer. jamie’s mother had already reached the car. she wrenched open the car door with both hands. the loud bang that came with it suggested that she was close to ripping the door off of the frame of the car.

she didn’t even give me time to breathe before she smothered me in a firm hug, tears slipping down her cheeks, wailing out an impressive list of profanities alongside cries of joy. i couldn’t even imagine what she was going through. it was gut-wrenching, knowing that this wasn’t real.

“james,” she stops to kiss my forehead. “barnes.” another kiss. “don’t.” kiss. “you.” kiss. “ever.” she kisses both of my cheeks, holds my face between her hands and leans back, inspecting me, almost, “don’t you ever do that to me again.”

i gave her a short nod, and she set off again, kissing my face, and stopping every few seconds to make sure i was really there. it was sad, knowing that i was there, but her son wasn’t. i think she noticed my dampened mood as she calmed down, and pulled me in for a more gentle hug. i didn’t realize i was crying until i noticed a small wet patch on her shoulder where my head had been moments ago.

“i’m sorry,” i mumbled.

“it’s okay, you’re here now, everything is okay.”

she didn’t understand. she needs to know, she doesn’t deserve this. nobody did.

“no- i’m so sorry. i need t-”

she cut me off for a second time. “it’s okay james, you don’t need to apologize.”

it hit me suddenly that, maybe, the apology dancing on the tip of my tongue wasn’t just for her. i needed it too. i needed to know i was a good person, and i needed her to know that.

i let it go, nodding slightly, and staring at the floor in shame.

“i thought i would never see you again,” she said, shaking her head as she pulled back, her voice sounded heavy with tears, “you’re real.”

“i know,” i hated myself as i said it. this was all painstakingly wrong.

“you came back.”

“i know,” i repeated, i wanted to escape out of her grasp and run, through the fields and away from everything i had done.

and just like that there was silence. i started crying onto my new mother’s kitchen apron for the second time as charlotte rubbed my back in an attempt to calm me down. we stayed like that for a while, basking in each others presence. she rocked me back and forth like a baby in the freezing air. i heard charlotte go into the house, and a small dog had come out onto the porch, and towards the car. it sniffed around my sneakers for a bit, but then walked back inside, clearly unimpressed by my reappearance. my car door was still open, and the light on the rear side was still on. stupidly i thought about the car battery, and how drained it must be. 

a new gust of wind blew, making the trees thrash wildly, and the grass lay flat on the ground. i felt her shiver against my chest and wordlessly beckoned me to stand up and walk inside with her. she shut the car door carefully, trying not to detach it from the hinges any further. 

we were just reaching the porch when the phone rang from inside the house. james’ mother jumped a little like she had just woken up. she looked like she was miles away.

“that’ll be seb.” she said. she wiped her tears, and smoothed her hair back like whoever seb was he’d be able to see her. she reached out her hand as an offer for me to hold it, but i shook my head and turned back to get to my bag. she knew what i was doing, but she didn’t wait, leaving me in the wind, and the dark alone.

***

the first thing i noticed was how warm the house was. it had an overwhelming smell of wood smoke and cinnamon, but underneath the homely smell, there was something cloying and rotten, almost like decay. another thing i noticed was that it was disgustingly bright. i could feel my face heating up under the ceiling lights. i felt exposed. i could see my face on every reflective surface in the kitchen. it looked like me, not him. how was it not obvious?

i looked around the room. i felt like i had stepped into a show kitchen at ikea. it was shiny and light. every surface i saw looked impossibly clean and new. in the corner, there was an old range pumping out heat. it looked out of place, but i liked it. it reminded me of the one grandad used to have.

the family dog was in his basket in the corner. he didn’t get up. he simply lifted his eyes and wagged his tail as us lazily. the red collar on his neck was worn down and falling apart, with the name “sergeant barnes” engraved on the side. cute. i reached down to scratch his neck, but he flinched and growled. i snapped my hand back as i caught eyes with charlotte, who looked confused at his outburst.

“it’s our james, sarge, don’t you remember him?” she crouched down beside me, and gave him a small scratch behind the ear. 

“that’s strange, he must be losing his memory, you used to be his favorite.”

ouch. i hardly had time to think of a reply before james’ mother- my mother, came rushing back into the room. she was still flushed from the cold air, and her knuckles were bone white from the death grip she had on the phone.

“is that seb?” charlotte asked, as she lifted herself back up off the floor. james’ mother nodded and held out the phone to me.

“come speak to seb, james. your brother needs to hear your voice.”

i took the phone from her hand. as i brought it to the side of my face, james’ mother reached over, and put her hand on my head, combing her fingers through my long hair. i couldn’t look her in the eye, i was almost waiting for her to notice.

“hello, seb.”

seb was smoking. i could hear the wet suck of him pulling on a cigarette, the thickened taking in of breath. he laughed, and in my mind, i saw his open mouth, and smoke pouring from it.

“james,” he said, “you’re home,” his voice was low and warm, welcoming, almost.

“yes.” 

he sounded calm and confident. i liked the sound of him, “oh, i can’t wait to see you,” he said.

“when? tonight?”

“in the morning.”

“ok.”

would it be him that saw it? would he look at his brother, and see a liar underneath?

“it’s a miracle, james,” seb said, his mouth close to the phone, lips brushing right against the mouthpiece as he spoke. the sound of his voice grazed my ears.

“not really,” i replied.

“no, believe me. you are a miracle.”

james’ mother was holding out her hand now that she freed it from my hair. she was hinting for the phone, “mom wants you.”

“no. tell sarah i’ve got to go,” he said, “tell her i’ll see her tomorrow.”

“okay.”

“and james?”

“yes?”

“welcome home, brother.”

he hung up. i listened for a moment to the white noise coming from the other end. i had a brother now, too. he sounded older than charlotte, maybe mid-twenties.

sarah. james’ mother was called sarah. why did seb call her sarah? did james call her sarah too? i had been calling her mom all night, i wonder if she noticed. 

i could hardly breath. she was standing so close to me, she could see every little detail on my face from where she was standing. she didn’t seem to notice my scars, the old piercings in my ears, my missing arm. she didn’t see the thousand differences there must be. didn’t she see me?

“he hung up,” i said as i handed the phone back to sarah. the focus in her eyes slipped a little, but she kept them on me. i could see her pupils loosen, fade and come back. her eyes were clouded, her gaze slack. she looked almost high. i wondered if she was.

“oh,” she kept her eyes on me. i don’t think she heard me. it was charlotte who finally drew her attention away from me. she was holding a heavy wooden door open.

“are you coming?” she asked me.

“where? where are you taking him?” sarah had finally snapped out of it, but i almost preferred her before, she was jumpy now, and her free hand gripped tightly on my right shoulder.

“just a house tour, this is all new to him, he doesn’t know where anything is.”

she relaxed. “ok then, show him his room as well.”

they spoke about james, even though i was standing right in front of them. guess that’s just what they’re used to. james getting talked about. james not being there. nothing had changed, in a way.

we stood in silence for a bit. i couldn’t leave until sarah let go of me. i’m pretty sure she didn’t even notice her hand on my shoulder.

“c’mon mom, give him some space.”

charlotte is cool, i like her. sarah took her hand off my shoulder, and patted my back gently, pushing me towards charlotte. i followed her through the door. it led into a dark hallway. i trailed behind her until we reached a staircase. with my bag in her hand, charlotte led me up the stairs. the banister was painted a light grey. it matched the thick layer of dust coating the outer section of each step. the higher we went, the more i could smell the stale tobacco, most likely from sarah. i wondered if james’ disappearance made her smoking addiction worse.

“did you like the kitchen?” charlotte’s sudden question ended my train of thought.

“yeah. it was nice,” i said, “pretty.”

“not used to hearing you say those words.”

did i really have to be that careful? did the words “pretty” and “nice” betray james? i was trying to be good, i was trying to be like him.

“what’s in here?” we had reached the end of the first staircase, and i found myself walking through an empty doorway on my left. it was a little room filled with cardboard boxes, thick winter coats, and piles of old clothes.

“not much,” charlotte replied, standing on the opposite side of the hall. she turned her back to me, and opened the door, “this is the living room.”

it was huge. an ashy fireplace took up most of the back wall. in front of it were three old armchairs, each covered in blankets. they needed it, the room was cold.

“we hardly ever use this room. the kitchen’s nicer,” charlotte reached behind me and closed the door. her voice echoed in the now closed off room, “why did you look so surprised?”

“when?”

“when you looked at mom.”

i tried to think.

“do you think she’s gotten worse?”

i shrugged, “hard to say,” that made sense, right?

“she gets them in bulk on the internet now.”

“gets what?”

“valium. diazepam. probably more by now. the doctor refused to give her any more. he kept telling her to stop.”

“maybe she should.”

charlotte looked at me for a second, “you never thought that before.”

fuck. “i didn’t?”

“nope,” charlotte opened the door again, gesturing at me to follow through. now that we weren’t in a closed off room, she lowered her voice to a whisper, “what did you call them again? mommy managers.” 

i tried to smile, “oh yeah.”

“kept her half tuned out, so she didn’t care what you and steve were up to. ring a bell?”

who was steve, a friend? we started going up the second flight of stairs towards the attic. it was even colder up here, and each footstep echoed loudly.

“you were both as bad as each other.” 

“mmh.” 

james’ room was right at the top of the house. the white ceiling followed the shape of the slanted roof. charlotte managed to walk through the door with ease, but i had to stoop down to go in. i wondered if james would have to, too. charlotte pulled down on a cord near the entrance and the light snapped on. the bright lighting showed the dust particles swarming in the air. i could feel myself breathing it in. photo frames and little soldier action figures covered every surface. i made sure to keep myself from nudging against anything. this wasn’t my room. it wasn’t my stuff to touch.

“what?” charlotte asked.

i looked past her. “it’s nothing.”

“is it different?” she said. “i tried to make it look exactly the same.”

“no it’s- i’m just looking.”

i heard james’ mom walk up next to me, she must have come upstairs as i was looking. she wrapped her arm around my waist.

“it’s tidier though, won’t stay like that for long though, knowing jamie.”

there is was again. they refused to talk with me or look at me in the eyes. they were stuck in the habit of speaking about james like he wasn’t there. i guess it still fits, their james never made his way home. i wondered if the real james would hate me for what i was doing. i wondered what would happen if he came back.

“does it feel weird?” charlotte asked

“a bit.” i mumbled, i was still scared that they would work it out any second.

“yeah. i’ve got this repetitive alarm going off in my head. my little brother is home.”

she sounded like an announcement going off at a station. “my little brother is home and in his room.”

no, he’s not.

“do you like it? do you like your room?”

i didn’t answer. she didn’t notice.

“it’s bigger than your old one, isn’t it? do you like the new lava lamp? you always used to want one. mom said it was weird but i think it’s cool.”

i smiled.

“you hate everything, don’t you.” 

her disappointed tone felt like a punch in the stomach.

“no- it’s perfect.”

we stayed silent for a second before sarah reached up and started to play with my overgrown hair.

“you’re so tall,” she said like she was expecting me to be half the height i was.

“am i?”

“i forgot you’d be four years older,” she leaned over and rested her head on my shoulder, i wondered if she used to do the same, but on the top of my head instead. 

“i said the same thing,” charlotte said, “it’s like you grew in five minutes.”

sarah nodded against my shoulder, her eyes closed.

“god, where have you been, james?”

“what happened, tell us what happened.”

they both asked at the same time. i couldn’t answer them. my disguise was already paper-thin. i didn’t know what james barnes did, or what he would say. it was so easy to give myself away, expose the real me lurking underneath their son and brother.

“not now.”

“then when?” charlotte sounded desperate, she was subconsciously gripping her left elbow, i couldn’t tell if she wanted to know where i went, or what happened to my arm.

“leave it, sweetie.”

i silently thanked sarah, and we fell quiet again. it was tense, like a stand-off. i could hear myself breathing. i thought about how big james’ breaths were, how many beats his heart would get through a minute.

“are you hungry?” sarah asked as she detached herself from me.

i should be. i hadn’t eaten since charlotte had called. my stomach felt like a closed fist, eating was the last thing i should be doing.

james would be hungry. he would be hungry, relaxed and tired. james would feel at home.

“i think so.”

“good. let’s eat.”

they left the room ahead of me, and i listened to them walk across the hall and down the stairs. i stopped in the doorway and looked back into his room. the dust was still forming, clear under the harsh yellow light. i pulled the cord and switched it off.

it disappeared. just like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments make me unbelievably happy! <3


	11. Chapter 11

i had never eaten meat in my life before i was james barnes. not once.

according to grandad, being a vegetarian wasn’t about health, cruelty or flavor, it was about manners. he said that taking the milk, eggs and honey was enough of a liberty without hacking off someone’s leg and drowning it in sauce. i guess he had a point.

grandad was a good man like that, he was the one who taught me how to cook. he trusted me with all the sharp knives and all the dangerous utensils i could get my hands on. we lived off of rice, beans and vegetables. grandad always loved making curry, that’s what he told me anyway, maybe he just cooked it a lot because he knew it was my favorite. 

james’ favorite dish, however, was spaghetti and meatballs. sarah dumped a plateful in front of me and it was clear from the look on her face that meatballs were something i should be getting excited and nostalgic about.

“meatballs,” i said, “thanks.”

“god,” charlotte said, “how many times have we talked about this, mom? our jamie sitting here, eating with all of us again.”

sarah shook her head fondly, “i don’t know,” she said, “hundreds.”

i cut one of the meatballs in half and held it up to my face. the tomato sauce was dripping back onto the plate. i tried to smile, and not gag. i closed my eyes and ate the piece of meat in one bite, i could feel them watching me like hawks.

“delicious,” i said, still chewing. they tasted like shit. 

“as good as you remember?”

“better.” 

i managed to get through two, i drank a lot of water to help them go down. in my head i said sorry to grandad, and whatever animal i was eating. i slurped up another forkful of spaghetti before putting my knife and fork down. there were still four meatballs left on my plate.

“what’s wrong?” sarah asked.

charlotte joined in, “yeah, this isn’t like you.” 

“i- i haven’t eaten this much in a while, i’m not used to it.”

that was partly true, when you’re running, moving from place to place every day, it’s hard to stop and eat. you steal. you pick through trash cans, and try not to think about what you’re doing. you learn which shops and restaurants dump the most food, which nights produce more than others. you rely on what other people waste.

want to finish your expensive meal? don’t. someone outside might want it.

after sarah took away our plates she brought back a tub of ice cream, i served myself a couple of scoops, and let it melt down in the bowl, turning it into a soup-like consistency before eating it. i didn’t even realise i was doing it.

“why’d you always eat it like that?” charlotte asked, pausing her heaped spoonful of ice cream just before her mouth, “it’s gross”

it was funny that this was one of the first things to have in common with james, the way we eat ice cream. i shrugged and took another spoonful into my mouth.

“why did you leave us, james?” sarah said. it was rushed, i could tell she’d been bursting to ask me all night. she hadn’t even touched her bowl of ice cream, she was just mixing it absentmindedly.

“leave it, he’s tired and you can ask him tomorrow.” charlotte said.

“there wasn’t anything missing after you left.” she said, “how did you get any money?”

unknown hands caressing every inch of my skin. unfamiliar voices, and run-down motel rooms. running off with any valuables i could find stashed under my shirt, praying to god that they didn’t catch me on the way out. 

“i found a few places to stay” 

“ok then, there we are. now let’s leave it.” charlotte had finished her ice cream and was now shooting an angry look at sarah.

sarah wasn’t satisfied with that answer. “no, don’t do that. tell me where. tell me that you were safe.” she kept growing louder. “tell me why living on the street felt like a better fucking option than living with us-” 

“i said leave it, mom!” charlotte slammed her empty bowl down onto the table, the loud bang caused the dog to start barking. i felt like crying. it was too loud.

“leave it? my youngest son comes back after four years with one arm missing and a faceful of scars and i should leave it?” sarah was crying now, “what, should i also leave the fact that he has given us no information on where he’s been or-or what he’s done. do you want me to leave that, charlotte?”

“shut up, you’re scaring him!” 

the dog was howling now and my hands were over my ears as a pathetic attempt to block out what i was hearing. this isn’t what i expected. what i wanted.

sarah fell silent, she had stood up during her rant at charlotte, so she sunk back down onto her seat. i could tell she still had more to say. charlotte scoffed at her, and went to pick up the bowls from the table. the dog had calmed down too but was still whining quietly.

“what was so bad that you had to go? why would you punish us like that?”

“i don’t know.” it’s true, i didn’t. half of me wished that i knew why james left, but the other half was secretly glad that i didn’t. everything felt off.

“you do know, james. you knew what it would do to us, and i will never be able to forgive you for that.”

charlotte was still putting everything away, so instead of answering sarah, i stood up and rested my hand on charlotte’s shoulder. “sit down,” i said. “i’ll clear all this up.”

“nice try.” she whispered, being careful not to let sarah hear her. “walk out for a couple of years, then tip-toe back in, all sweet and gentle, like that’s going to fool anybody.”

that shocked me. it shouldn’t have. it was clear that charlotte was agreeing with every word sarah had told me, she was just more patient. i ignored her and started to stack up the clean dishes.

“who the hell are you pretending to be, james barnes?”

charlotte didn’t care about sarah overhearing her this time. sarah didn’t argue with her, but she flinched slightly at her outburst.

“i’m sorry,” i looked away from charlotte, and made eye-contact with sarah, “i’m sorry, mom. i really am.”

sarah didn’t respond, not straight away. she just stared, “your eyes, they’ve changed color,” she said, she sounded like she was surprised to hear herself say it.

“they haven’t,” charlotte replied. she didn’t bother looking up to check.

“they have, they’re different. how’s that possible?”

“It’s not possible, that’s why they haven’t changed.”

“your eyes used to be blue.”

“his eyes are blue, mom.”

“no- they’re lighter now, grey almost.”

i was on edge, waiting for them to notice the huge list of differences. how had they not seen them yet?

“yeah right,” charlotte said under her breath, “and can you count how many fingers i’m holding up?”

“stop that. i swear, they’ve changed.”

“you’re just not remembering them right, that’s all.”

“i am,” she said, “i know my son’s eyes.”

i thought she might start crying again. i hated seeing his mother so ruined, and upset. i knew it was partially my fault. i knew she was right.

“i really need to sleep,” she said, turning away from me like she couldn’t bear to see me, “it’s just me being tired, that’s all.”

charlotte scoffed again, “yeah, the drugs do that.”

“don’t charlotte,” i said. i didn’t even think before saying it.

it stunned her. made her stop dead. i knew why. i knew what she was thinking. she knew james wouldn’t have said that.

“goodnight, both of you,” sarah ignored charlotte as she got up and kissed my cheek, then leaned over to charlotte, and rested her hand on her arm, “don’t stay up too late.”

we watched her as she made her way to the staircase, neither of us spoke as we listened to her climb the stairs, when i heard a door slam upstairs i let go of the breath i didn’t even realize i was holding.

“you’re not fooling me, you know,” charlotte said.

she knows.

“i don’t know what you mean.”

“i haven’t forgotten what you were really like,” she said, “it will take more than four years to forget that.”

“what was i like?” i asked, “maybe it’s me who’s forgotten.”

charlotte listed on her fingers, bluntly, it felt like an axe falling. I didn’t expect any of it.

“a smartass,” she said, “rude. selfish. aggressive. secretive. you were never helping us out. you would just come eat with us then disappear off with your precious steve.”

there was that name again, who the hell is steve?

“i can see you really missed me.”

“i did. i really did. i’m just wondering how long all of this is going to last.”

me too.

“as long as i can keep doing it.”

she smiled, and the tension in her face and shoulders relaxed a little, “i like it.”

“like what?”

“new and improved super-nice james.”

“oh.”

“you’re going to offer to take sergeant barnes for a walk in a second.”

i looked at the dog. i picked up a worn down leash that was hanging up by his bed and held it out. he jumped up excitedly, seeming to forget how much he hated me when we first met.

“i was joking, you jerk,” charlotte said.

“i haven’t done it in four years, i thought it might be my turn,” i clipped the leash to his collar and led him out of the front door. we didn’t walk far, just around the house. we barely finished the first lap when he pulled away from me and leaned towards the house, probably desperate to go back to sleep again. i laughed and unclipped his leash. he shot off and ran back in, settling down in his bed in seconds. charlotte watched from the doorway.

“c’mon, james, get inside where it’s warm.”

i did what i was told and walked back in, kicking off my muddy sneakers. charlotte and i silently worked together to clean up and switch off all the lights, then we tiptoed upstairs. charlotte followed me all the way up to james’ room. 

“goodnight,” i said as we reached his door.

“night.” she gave me a smile as i slipped inside. i started to close the door on her when she placed her foot between the door and the frame. “jamie?”

“yes?”

“i’m glad you’re home.”

“thanks.”

“even if you are acting weird.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments make me unbelievably happy! <3


	12. NOT A CHAPTER

Hi guys!

I'm really caught up with work at the moment, so today's update will either be late or posted next Sunday.

Thank you to everyone reading this,

Empie <3


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